


Bring The Columns Down

by TheBlindBandit



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: F/F, Knight Pearl, Poly Bisexual Rose Quartz, Polyamory, Pre-Canon, just say no to gal pals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 13:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4523784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlindBandit/pseuds/TheBlindBandit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She'd hardly say she does it for any sort of glory - far from it. But some acknowledgement here and there would be nice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring The Columns Down

**Author's Note:**

> With many thanks to gimmeshellder for the prompt in the form of Regina Spektor's "Samson".

_The Lady of Roſes came down from the mountain where the fierce foe lay bested at ſundown of the fifth day, and ſpoke at length to the gathered crowd. Of her three truſted comrades, never far from the Lady’s ſide, the Rook Knight took up the noble ſtandard and allowed it to fly high as at long laſt the Lady was reunited with her betrothed-_

Pearl huffed, and let the ancient missive fall onto the growing pile of paper, parchment, papyrus, and the stray stone slab or two that had sprouted on the top fountain of her room. Oh, but had that whole betrothal episode ever been a disaster – of course, one could hardly blame Rose for misunderstanding some bizarre human concept and associated set of “traditions”. At least Pearl would forever have the joy of reliving the sweet, sweet memory of the look on that particular lord’s face when he finally realised-

The levity and the brief half-chuckle the mental image provided faded far too quickly, and Pearl returned to frowning at the bottomless disappointment provided by her collection of documents and testimonials. Just more and more of the same, wherever she looked. The magnificent Rose Quartz and her three companions, her sisters-in-arms, her fellow travellers, her friends, her cohorts, her-

Pearl sighed.

“Is something the matter, my Pearl?”

“Rose!” Pearl all but snapped to attention at the sound and turned to face the entrance to her room, the usual grace and air of effortless elegant half-dancing entirely gone from her movements, with her speech following close behind. “H-how did you get in here? I mean, not that I don’t want you here, of course I do, I always want you- oh dear, not like _that_ , I didn’t mean it like, I, er-”

“You left the door wide open?” Rose offered, stepping further into the room with a gentle smile, an eyebrow raise and a vague gesture at the strange pile in front of a highly flustered Pearl. ”I thought you were just briefly going in to fetch something, but you’ve been gone for hours. What is all this?”

Pearl briefly contemplated just willing the whole stack to sink to the bottom of the fountain. Then she flirted with the idea of sinking into the water herself. “I’ve just been doing some… research,” she finally and weakly offered, as Rose reached her side and bent down to pick up a delicate-looking roll of parchment.

“Research. On… the Lay of the Crimson Tempest. Oh, that’s one of my favourites!” Her eager exclamation was accompanied by the rustle of a rapidly unrolling scroll. “I just _love_ the part about Garnet and the dragon! Such inventive rhymes.”

“It was just a corrupted Topaz,” Pearl grumbled, doing absolutely nothing to keep the rising irritation out of her voice, “and _I_ was the one to deliver the finishing blow. That so-called bard had no idea what he was talking _or_ singing about. Not to mention that simply atrocious lute playing. Really,” she muttered sourly, “it’s no wonder the court had him executed, in the end.”

“That’s a bit harsh, Pearl, even for you,” Rose tutted, both her smile and her interest in the parchment quickly evaporating in the face of Pearl’s very real and mounting frustration.

“I am mentioned in five stanzas out of thirty seven – _thirty seven! –_ and in four of those I am referred to as a servant, with carrying your belongings uphill as my greatest contribution to the narrative! That is _not_ an acceptable use of artistic license!”

“It’s been centuries, Pearl,” Rose sounded quite confused, even mildly disbelieving. “It’s just a poem, one of thousands. What’s gotten into you? And since when do you care what humans think?”

Pearl finally paused her agitated pacing and brought her arms back down to her sides, angry gesticulating replaced by upset hand-wringing. _Since_ **you** _decided_ **you** _cared._  “I just… I appreciate… accuracy. A dedication to fact is, as you know, one of the things I pride myself on… and…”

Pearl trailed off, all of a sudden looking so defeated and miserable even the ends of her hair seemed to sag. Rose frowned, then alighted on an idea and quickly threw herself into rummaging through the side of the pile that seemed to contain more recent artefacts. She wasn’t long in finding what she wanted. “Here, look!” she called out, brandishing a small leather-bound booklet in Pearl’s general direction. “Do you remember this one? _From her neck she unclasped the collar of gold - valorous to her vassal gave it, with bright-gold helmet, breastplate, and ring, to the youthful thane: bade her use them in joy-_ ”

The recitation, as pleasantly rhythmic it was, didn’t do much at all to either smooth Pearl’s ruffled feathers or lift her spirits. Rose was trying, and it was lovely, and a part of Pearl felt warmed by this thought alone, but a long shrug was the most she could muster in reaction to a poetic description – with many liberties taken, of course, and what was it with humans and their fascination with giant reptiles, anyway? – of herself as the last knight refusing to succumb to her wounds and faithfully standing by Rose’s side.

Rose came to the end of a passage, glanced over at Pearl’s sullen expression, and snapped the book shut with a sigh. “I thought you _liked_ being my knight.”

She sounded slightly… hurt? Worried? It was entirely unacceptable, in any case. “I do!” Pearl insisted, immediately and loudly. “Of _course_ I do, I just-,” she made several weak and undecipherable motions with her right hand, the other one busy toying with the hem of her tunic until she could manage the quiet admission. “After all this time I thought I was… something else to you, too.”

It hung in the air between them for a long moment, the silence barely broken by the sound of the many fountains of Pearl’s room constantly overflowing.

“Oh, Pearl. Of course you are!” Rose spoke with a determination and fire she usually saved for the battlefield, in a tone rarely heard in the relatively peaceful times they found themselves in. “Of course you are- haven’t we talked about this enough, since the… since the retreat? You haven’t been in any kind of service for a long time, I don’t care how voluntary. Things are different now, and none of us are going back to any of that, ever.”

“I know, I guess. I just- I wanted to see it… written down somewhere. But it’s not.” Pearl jumped back into animated pacing again, her hands as restless as the rest of her, as if a switch had been flipped somewhere. “You know as well as I do that humans put so much stock in noting things down, in rather obnoxiously carving their names into every available surface- and it makes sense, yes, obviously, with their rather sad, short existences, but- anyway. They’re so… oblivious. I don’t know what else could possibly be the reason! We haven’t exactly been subtle, have we?” Rose merely gave a small, almost sheepish smile, and shook her head in place of replying and interrupting. “Still, wherever I’ve looked, there’s been nothing but a cursory mention of me standing by your side, with the occasional bit of praise thrown in for my loyalty. And look at this one!” Pearl plucked a scrap of parchment off the pile and waved it in front of Rose’s face, not giving her a single chance to read a word. “ _This_ extraordinarily perceptive human poet composed an _ode_ in our honour! Apparently I am a fierce hunting hawk that perches on your shoulder and snaps up mice and ferrets at your command. Which is not only completely unsanitary and something bound to give Amethyst deplorable ideas, but also just- _ugh_!”

Rose watched the parchment flutter sadly down onto the completely dry fountain surface, as Pearl continued her long, frustrated strides, unconsciously kicking up small splashes as she went and ranted on. “And meanwhile, of course, every… entanglement you’ve had with a human over the centuries gets a- a- sonnet collection, a fresco, a symphony- honestly what _is_ it with you and all these artist types?”

“I don’t think there’s any need to compare yourself to them, Pearl.” Rose walked up to her and stilled one of her hands by taking it in both of her own. “They’ve all given me many beautiful things, and so much of themselves and their short, brilliant lives, too. But _you_ –”

“I would have-,“ Pearl started, then stopped almost immediately as the words hitched in her throat strangely. She worried her fingers between Rose’s and forced the sentiment out somewhat differently, with all the conviction she could muster put into it. “I’ve given you everything. And I would do it all over again, in an instant.”

Rose was staring at her, eyes widened and filled with a quiet kind of awe. “You’re beautiful,” she all but blurted out. Pearl gaped at her in confusion, startled both by the reverential tone and the unexpected compliment, unsure if a response was expected of her. She focused on tracing small circles on the back of Rose’s hand, until Rose snapped out of whatever mood had come over her. “Oh dear, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to… it’s not particularly relevant now. I just got a bit… caught up in things. I’m sorry.”

From their days on Homeworld - strictly compartmentalised and marked _Before_ , as Pearl knew Rose thought of them - all through the rebellion and war and a host of years trying to minimise the scars of the failed Gem occupation on Earth, Rose was never one to apologise for much. Pearl was no closer to knowing how to respond, and the growing flush she felt rapidly take over her face only burned brighter when Rose gave up on words and went for an embrace, instead.

“Still,” Rose finally continued once they somewhat reluctantly stepped apart, running a soft thumb over the bluest patch of Pearl’s cheek, “it’s very true - oh, hush, don’t fight me. And so is another thing.”

“Oh?” Pearl knew she sounded more dazed than curious. They were still very close to each other, their words barely above a whisper. Rose pressed a very soft kiss against Pearl’s forehead, just beneath her gem.

“Yes. For what it’s worth - I want you to remember that, whatever else, I loved _you_ first.”

There had never been a single line written about it, but Pearl remembered very clearly, as she did most things: the first time her vision had been filled with bright pink, and a hand extended to her – an offer and a promise all in one, already breaking so many rules and barriers that had informed each of their existences, and she’d taken Rose up on both; then, the warmth of tears splashing over her cracked gem, turning into a tingling heat and intense relief the likes of which she’d never felt before, segueing into a mounting horror at the realisation of just how many so very like her hadn’t been lucky enough to be saved by catching the eye of a passing benefactor. The question of _Why me?_ always drifted to the forefront of her mind when she let herself dive into all the memories like this, and her mind ended up so crowded that she at first failed to realise she’d asked it out loud.

“I could have been shattered and ground into powder bound for the Recycler a dozen times,” she elaborated, upon seeing Rose’s mildly puzzled look. “After that, I could have been trampled into dust on any one of the thousand battlefields I followed you to. But you’ve never let me. And I just wonder sometimes- or- often, actually,” Pearl looked down at their still intertwined hands, unable to meet Rose’s eyes. “Why do you even bother with me? It’s not like you need me around, really, I just- I- well. I carry your things uphill, I guess.”

The bitter little chuckle that Pearl ended her sentence with very obviously didn’t sit well with Rose at all. Nothing about her words did – Rose seemed terrifyingly angry for a few moments: an ancient rage that Pearl remembered all too well, accompanied by almost-pity for whoever happened to be on the receiving end. It stuck out painfully as something from another time – as Rose seemed to realise herself soon enough, her expression turning to sadness instead. “Please,” she nudged Pearl’s chin back up, gazing at her with eyes carefully cleansed of any trace of her previous flare of rage. “I’m not angry with you, Pearl. I’m angry at… them, always. But at myself, too. I should have noticed you were having trouble adjusting much, much sooner.”

“It’s fine! It’s nothing you should bother to-” Pearl didn’t get far in her feeble attempt at an argument, as Rose would have none of it.

“No, I most definitely should! And I will start right now. Here, sit down.” Pearl did, settling down next to Rose, allowing her legs to dangle over the edge of the fountain, water periodically splashing her heels. Rose pulled her closer, and Pearl huddled into her side, holding onto the arm draped around her narrow shoulders.

“I’d love to be able to recite you a beautifully phrased ballad of the Knight of Roses and her many accomplishments, with extra attention given to the verses dealing with her Lady’s love for her, but for all my years here I’m still not exactly at home, as they say, with poetry.”

Pearl allowed Rose’s small chuckle to flood into her, drawing out the tension from all her limbs, finally allowing her to offer up an honest smile of her own – one that Rose eagerly returned. “I hope you’ll still let me tell you, in my own words, what exactly you are to me, and how much you’ve changed my life from the moment I spotted you in that long, long line by the processing plant.”

Pearl nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak, and let the pleasant murmur of Rose’s words join the gentle splash of the fountains in washing over her.


End file.
